The Heart of the Matter
by Jaela-chan
Summary: “There are times when I don’t know. I can never tell what he’s thinking. I don’t know if the kingdom I’m imagining is the one he wants to build.”
1. Part I

Author's Notes: This is my first Merlin fic, so I apologize if it's off to a bit of a shaky start. Dedicated to my wonderful best friend and fellow Merlin addict, Jaime. Love you, Jaime! Okay, I'mma shut up and let you all read the story now.

**The Heart of the Matter: Part I**

"Gwen? Have you seen my brush?" Morgana swirled in a flurry through the room. Waves of thick, dark hair swirled out behind her, and sharp brows furrowed over stirringly bright eyes.

"Ah-- no, I haven't. I'm sorry," Gwen added, looking up from the laundry basket she was fussing over. "I'll keep an eye out?"

"Never mind. This reeks of Arthur-- I'll bet you anything he's got it." She marched disdainfully out of the room. "Honestly," she added in a low voice to herself.

Presently finding herself at Arthur's door, she pounded twice but waited for no response before showing herself in. "Arthur! this is getting less funny and less tolerable each time," she declared.

Arthur looked up from the table and slowly raised his eyebrows. "So, you're admitting that it was, at one time, funny and tolerable?"

Morgana snorted. "Of course not. And I don't have time for this; just tell me where you're hiding it."

"Oh," Arthur said, mock sympathy playing over his features now, "have you lost something, Morgana? Can I help you look for it?" His mouth twitched as he fought a smile. He'd never been a particularly good actor.

"Do I need to say it again? I don't have time for--"

"Finished!" Merlin came trudging in, shoulders slumping. "Finally," he said breathlessly, eyes coldly accusing Arthur of mistreatment. "Hello Morgana," he addressed her shortly, before turning his eyes back on the prince. "Is that all for today, Sire?" The last word dripped with sarcasm, and the entire query held not-so-subtle connotations of _if you say no, I may drop dead, and I am taking you down with me._

"Yes, I suppose," Arthur drawled lazily, taking now to examining his fingernails. "For now. But those horses had better look immaculate." He sighed, thinking it was too much to have them _both_ staring daggers at him this early in the day.

"They've never looked better," Merlin said, his arms and shoulders engaging briefly in a loose shrug.

As he made this gesture, Morgana caught something out of the corner of her eye. A glint of polished ivory and mother of pearl. She swivelled precipitously on her heels to face Merlin, and sure enough, there it was dangling loosely from his right hand.

"That's my brush!"

Merlin looked up at her with a look of shock and immediately offered it to her. "It's not-- I mean-- I had no idea. Arthur just--"

"Of course, I know. I don't blame you." She threw Arthur one last hostile scowl and shook the brush threateningly in his direction before strutting out of the room.

Merlin blinked and coughed. "How many is that this week?" he asked, making his way meanderingly to where Arthur sat.

"How many what?"

"How many things has Morgana had, ah, 'go missing?'"

Arthur lowered his head and gave Merlin a sideways look out from underneath his eyelashes. For a moment it seemed as though he wouldn't answer, then a smile broke out on his face. "This week? That's only five so far. But all together... who can say?"

Merlin echoed the smile and shook his head. "And you don't think maybe that's enough?"

Arthur shook his head as if to clear it of even having heard the notion. "Enough? Why exactly would I stop now and call it 'enough'?""

Merlin shrugged again and clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It's up to you in the end, isn't it?" His mouth twisted into an odd expression, as if he was trying to puzzle something out, but then he merely turned to make his exit as well.

Arthur gazed at the retreating figure, mouth full of half-formed comebacks, but in the end he resigned and let Merlin go.

--

They were a young and handsome couple to the intrigued passersby. His hair was dark as soot and hers as pale as milk, and both seemed to be silhouetted by an ethereal light, of which no one could determine the source. She delicately wove her fingers into his and laughed.

"Isn't it funny?" she asked.

But before he could answer, the light was gone, and so were they both, and there was nothing but bitingly cold night. A twig snapped loudly from somewhere out of sight.

And then there was the light again, and there he was again, together with her, hand-in-hand.

"Shouldn't you be more careful?" he asked, not really knowing what he was asking, or why.

She shrugged. "I don't want to someday regret not doing more, not living more fully."

"There's plenty of time," he said, his tone guarded.

"I'm not trying to be gloomy," she said, "but you never know, do you?"

And then she was lying in bed, coughing and coughing, and he was kneeling on the cold floor, chest sore with pervading agony.

And then it was dark again, and three men in hooded cloaks were jabbing at the earth with shady instruments and speaking in hushed tones.

And then she was in the quiet room with him again, bedridden, stifling a cough.

"You have to promise me," she said. "Promise you'll come and see me no matter what. No matter where I am. You must come and see me every spring, on bright, clear days like this."

He looked into her eyes, and there was no pain there. How could she be so tranquil when everything inside of him was restless and mournful?

"Do you promise me, Gaius?"

The men in the forest cackled crudely, and earth gave way to their unsavoury bids.

And then he awoke with a start.

Merlin heard Gaius draw in a gasp, and looked up from the table where he was pushing aside books to arrange their dinner. "Good morning Gaius. Oh, actually... it's not morning. It's pretty late, really. You dozed off reading."

"Did I...?" Gaius blinked and sat himself up. Sure enough, a book was lying open on his lap. He tutted at himself-- that was no way to treat a book. A spine could be destroyed that way. Such carelessness. He set the book aside safely, and patted it as if to reassure it that he'd meant no harm. In doing so, he somehow managed to knock over three more books and a(thankfully empty) goblet. Merlin grinned at him as he righted the fallen articles.

"Right, right then," Gaius said, clearing his throat rather a lot, "let's see what you've brought."

It wasn't until half-way through the meal that his dream began trickling back into Gaius's conscious mind. It had been a long time indeed since he'd thought of those days.. since he'd thought of _her_. And with that thought came a biting twinge of guilt. He had, after all, made a promise to her. That part of the dream was merely a memory playing itself out in his sleeping mind. What had the rest been? What was the meaning behind the dark, frigid forest and its sinister inhabitants? No, perhaps that was not the question to be asking. Rather, he ought to be wondering how many springs it had been since he had been to pay his respects. How many years had he gone back on his word?

Amidst all the chaos in his mind, Gaius did not realise that this was perhaps the quietest supper he and Merlin had ever shared.

Merlin, too, took no notice. His thoughts were occupied with a perplexing dilemma of his own.

--

The next morning, Merlin returned to the stables. Three horses had been lent out to hunters in a neighbouring village as part of a campaign to reduce the number of wild hares with which the forests surrounding Camelot had become quite overrun. The horses had now been returned, and they, too, needed tending to.

It wasn't until he was already there that Merlin realised he had no brush. It was when the previous one had broken that Arthur had given him Morgana's as a replacement. And that, obviously, he could not use anymore. Merlin blushed just to think that something Morgana clearly cared quite a bit about had been used to comb mats and dirt clods out of the horses' unruly manes. Sure, it had been Arthur's scheme, but Merlin still felt some responsibility for it. He might have guessed that something so delicate and pretty was not meant for taming the hair of animals.

An interlude to Merlin's musing arrived in the form of Arthur himself. Arthur, who strolled in blithely and hurled a brush at Merlin's head.

Merlin only just managed to bat the thing away clumsily before it made contact with his skull, and it thumped to the ground between the two boys.

"What was that?!" Arthur cried. "It's not _evil_, Merlin-- it's not trying to _kill_ you."

It took a moment for Merlin to even register what had happened. Arthur at the stable door, brush on the ground, hand feeling kind of sore... "Right. Of course. Sorry."

Merlin bent to pick up the brush, but Arthur got to it first, and thrust it out under Merlin's nose, vexed. "Will you please_ take_ it this time."

Merlin did so, or tried to, it seemed. But when his hand came up, it wrapped around the brush's handle and also Arthur's fingers. The two stood there like that for a few moments, until Arthur jerked his hand away(with no delicacy to speak of) and gave Merlin a Look-- eyes wide with a silent warning.

As soon as he was alone once again, Merlin let out a long, weary sigh. "Never works," he muttered, and set about tending to the horses.

--

By lunchtime, the incident was forgotten for the most part by both boys. The meal that Merlin carried to Arthur's quarters certainly looked a delight-- the kitchen staff, presumably cheerful because of the lovely weather that had been gracing Camelot lately, had taken to arranging the food in ornate presentations. Every bit of food was cut prettily and displayed with garnishes of flowers and frilly leaves. Merlin took a point to memorise how it looked before he entered the room.

Arthur was already seated at his table, studying a map and running long fingers through blonde hair. When he heard Merlin enter, he pushed it aside and cleared his throat. "The horses?"

"Beautiful," Merlin assured him. "Couldn't possibly look more pristine."

"Good."

Merlin carried the tray to the table and stood behind Arthur as he set it down, an arm brushing against Arthur's ear as he did so.

"Merlin."

"Yes sire?"

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you your lunch."

Arthur sighed. "_I know that_," he said. "What I'm asking is why you have to lean over me and practically stick your elbow in my ear to manage it. You could have spilled it all over me. Why can't you just set it down normally?"

"No reason," Merlin was quick to reply. "I didn't really think of it. Enjoy your lunch." He could scarcely have got out of the room faster.

"What on earth has got into him?" Arthur forgot his lunch entirely for all of his puzzling over Merlin's strange behaviour. Not that Merlin wasn't _always_ strange, but this was a new breed of suspiciousness. Ever the resourceful one, Arthur decided to find out for himself. Having given Merlin a fair enough head start, Arthur pushed the food aside followed.

--

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

"Hello?" Merln's voice echoed through the cave in that way that was still eerie despite the familiarity. "I... I want to talk to you!' He strained his ears for the sounds of beating wings. But he heard nothing until all of a sudden, the Dragon fell heavily on his rocky perch, having glided in silently. This, too, Merlin suspected he would never get used to.

"You surprise me, young warlock," the Dragon drawled. "I was not expecting you."

Merlin nodded. "It's not a... a kingdom-wide crisis or anything," he said.

"This is... a personal matter?" Words spoken with intrigue.

"Sort of. Well, yes."

"I see. Tell me of your troubles."

"It's Arthur," Merlin sighed.

The Dragon's eyes were laughing.

"I've been having doubts," he confessed. "Sometimes, I know that Arthur will be a good king. A _great_ king. I can almost see how... how magnificent Albion will be under his rule. But other times..." he shook his head. "There are times when I don't know. I can never tell what he's thinking. I don't know if the kingdom I'm imagining is the one he wants to build."

The Dragon nodded slowly.

After a few moments of silence, Merlin became apprehensive. "You're not saying anything," he pointed out.

"You say you don't know what is in the prince's heart."

"Right."

"The answer, young warlock, is easier than it seems. It should not be difficult for one such as yourself to acquire the information you seek."

"Always a riddle," Merlin mumbled. "Great. Thanks."

_One such as yourself_ indeed. What was that supposed to mean?

...Oh, right. Someone with magic. Could Merlin figure out what Arthur was thinking by magic?

Actually, yes. It took all afternoon to find the spell in his book, and all evening and a good chunk of the night to work it. He chanted out the incantation and then Arthur's name again and again, until both seemed to all but lose their meanings. Finally, though, Merlin felt the energy enter him, and knew it had succeeded. He would be able to hear Arthur's thoughts. All it took was physical contact.

--

Which was proving to be more difficult than Merlin had anticipated. Somehow, he had only managed to make contact for moments at a time, and it wasn't long enough for him to hear anything useful. Merlin marched back toward the Dragon's cave, but changed his mind and doubled back-- he would just have to work harder. And the Dragon, surely, would have nothing useful to say, At least, any further advice would be even more deeply encoded in conundrum and rhyme.

Merlin would just have to work the rest out on his own.

Arthur had to duck out of sight at the very last second when he saw Merlin turn on his heels and start back the other way.

Well, this didn't make any sense. Why would he walk all the way down to the dungeons just to turn around and walk back again? Unless...

Ah, that must be it, Arthur thought. Merlin had been headed for the large chamber at the end. Arthur knew what notable captive was retained there. Probably, Merlin had just found out, and had gone to see for himself. But he'd chickened out at the last second. Stupid Merlin-- of course no harm could come to him in that chamber. The creature was chained up tight, and beside that had grown weak in its old age. Or so Arthur had heard. He had never really seen it with his own eyes. Or he had, but had been too young to remember. He could understand why Merlin had wanted to see. But if it had been Arthur, he wouldn't have lost his nerve like that...

Without even realising what his feet had been doing, Arthur found himself at the mouth of the cavern.

"Have you returned already?" A deep rumbling of a voice sounded from the chamber's interior. Its owner was not far behind. Arthur did not expect the thing to be so very _big_, or so crash down quite so close or quite so heavily, sending stones and grit tumbling uselessly into the gorge below.

"You are not..." The dragon shook its massive head and looked searchingly at Arthur. "You are Arthur. You are my captor's son."

"I am," Arthur said, a little less steadily than he would have liked. He hadn't expected the monster to speak, either. It had an almost human-like glint to its eyes, too-- unsettling.

"To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

That was a good question. Arthur didn't know what to say. No, no, he had to steel himself and regain the upper hand. There was no reason to be intimidated by a dying captive beast.

"You were expecting someone else." Arthur looked into its eyes critically. "Who comes to see you?"

The Dragon was quiet.

"Speak now!" Arthur's voice sounded pleasingly thunderous, amplified by echoes.

"It is not for me to say."

"You _will_ say, because I am _ordering_ you to," Arthur insisted.

Still the Dragon said nothing.

Arthur thought of Merlin, spinning round and retracing his steps. Surely not-- "Is it Merlin?"

"I cannot say."

Well, that was enough of an answer in itself. But it didn't make any sense. "Merlin. _Merlin_ has been here before? To see you?"

Well, the Dragon thought, he had to have found out sooner or later. It had merely turned out to be sooner.

Arthur looked so troubled. Trying to figure out what to make of this-- what _could_ be made of it that didn't involve coming to disagreeable conclusions.

"The boy comes to me for guidance," the Dragon sighed in capitulation.

So many questions. Which to start with. "Often?"

"Now and again. Less often in recent months.

Months. Months? "How long had this been going on?"

"He first came to me not long after his arrival in Camelot."

"And he comes to you for advice."

"Yes."

"Which you have given him on... numerous occasions."

"I do what I can for the boy."

Arthur stepped back and pressed a palm to his forehead. This didn't make any sense. Was it a trick? Was the fiend trying to make a fool of him?

"On what matters have you advised him?"

"They are many."

"Well, give me an example!" Arthur shouted impatiently.

The Dragon tried to choose one of the less offensive incidents. "The druid boy."

"You told Merlin to harbour and rescue the boy?"

"No. I advised him against protecting the boy."

What was that, sarcasm?

"You're messing with me."

"I assure you I am not."

Something about the creature's voice suggested truth, and Arthur was compelled in spite of himself to believe its words.

"So... you advise Merlin, and he goes against your advice."

"At times."

"That is so like him," Arthur muttered sympathetically, smiling. "He always does just as he likes. Damn what anyone else thinks. Damn the consequences."

The dragon made a guttural rasping sound. Laughing?

"There is nothing I can do for the boy just now. The plight he struggles with is one that only you can resolve."

"What is the plight you speak of?"

More of the sound something like laughter. "Go and speak to him! This, too, is not my tale to relate."

Cross, but suspecting they had reached an impasse, Arthur left the Dragon to his cave.

Oh, sure, talk to Merlin. How would that go? So, Merlin, you and the dragon in the dungeon are mates. Tell me about that, will you Merlin? Ridiculous.

But greater than the aversion to sounding stupid was that to admitting to the existence of certain things Arthur did not want to take heed of.

Ah, this was too much to consider just now. Arthur needed a distraction, at least for a while. He needed a hunting trip.

--

A clumsy pit had emerged, and dirt was flung in untidy piles on all sides. The strongest of the group-- no stalwart warrior, to be sure, but with decently thick arms-- climbed down inside and heaved open the casket that lay at the bottom.

"Is it there?" another of the men croaked, craning his neck to see into the trough below.

"I'm looking, I'm looking."

"Well, no need to snap at me."

The burlier man inspected the contents of the casket carefully, and after a moment pulled something off of one skeletal finger and held it up to the moonlight-- "There, I've found it." Glinting, throwing moonbeams back at the sky.

"We're settled for life now, men," announced the one in the back, obscured by the shadows. "This'll fetch a pretty price."

And they look to shovelling and kicking earth back into the pit, paying no mind to the blatant discourtesy paid to the open casket.

"Good morning." Gaius awoke to bright blue eyes crinkled in a smile.

Gaius groaned. "Morning... is it really morning this time?"

"Just barely," Merlin said. "You've got to stop falling asleep in odd places like this. What will the people of Camelot do if the physician himself gets sick?" He patted Gaius on the back and helped him up from where he had fallen asleep-- leaning over the table in a way that cannot have been comfortable, especially at his age.

"I wonder if I _have_ fallen ill," Gaius mused, making his way to his feet. "Very strange."

The smile dropped from Merlin's face. "Are you alright? What's strange?"

"Oh, nothing," Gaius said with a wave of his hand. "Strange dreams."

"Nightmares?" Concern coloured Merlin's face.

"No. I don't think so... rather, I don't remember," Gaius lied.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, no. Don't you worry about me." Another dismissive hand wave.

"If you're sure." Merlin reluctantly went to prepare Arthur's things for the hunt.

He couldn't help but worry that perhaps it wasn't only Arthur, but Gaius, too, that he was having trouble figuring out.

--

Just as he had suspected, the hunt proved to be the perfect distraction for Arthur. By the time he returned, he was almost too exhausted to think. When he was greeted by Merlin in his room, his mind did not even stray to his friend's unusual relationship with the magical beast held beneath them.

Merlin made quick work of Arthur's armour, his hands moving more swiftly and adeptly than usual. He was too nervous to remember to take his time until after it was all already set aside.

"Leaves in your hair," he murmured, and plucked them delicately from the golden strands. Arthur's hair was softer than he expected it to be, causing him to withdraw his hand impulsively. No good...

Arthur took a seat now, and Merlin moved on to his boots, removing them as slowly and laboriously as he could manage. Still, he couldn't catch anything much more than a muffled undertone from Arthur's mind.

He scrambled for more ideas, but most of them seemed too dangerous. "You look tense," he said. "Should I massage your shoulders?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, eyes closed but brows raised, "should you?"

Merlin gulped.

He made his way behind Arthur, but his hands hesitated. He could tell by the prince's deep breathing that he'd already fallen asleep. To do this now, he thought, would seem like taking advantage.

Merlin sighed resignedly and drew up a chair across from Arthur's. He watched the peaceful face and the contented rise and fall of the wide chest. Sooner or later, he would wake up, and Merlin could help him into bed. But for now...

"Sleep well, Sire."

--

Author's Notes: So that's Part I! Thank you so much for reading. The next part is in the works, so if you wanna click the little story alert thingy, feel free to do so and there will be more before too long!  
A few things: Firstly, I am American. Haha. I decided to use British spellings for things because it seemed appropriate, but I'm sure I've made some sort of mistake and given away my Americanness at some point or another. Ahahaha. Secondly, I kind of don't have a beta for this story, and would kind of be very happy to have one? So if you're interested, let me know please. Thirdly, I know this chapter kind of left a lot of loose ends hanging. I apologize for that and I promise promise promise that I will tie them off in later chapters. Fourthly, reviews are my lifeblood and vitality! If you managed to make it this far, I would be overjoyed to know what you thought. Thanks so much! Talk to you again soon!


	2. Part II

Author's Notes: Part II has arrived! I planned for it to be done sooner. And also for it to be longer. But uhmm... I ran out of time and wanted this done before Christmas? So please accept it in its truncated form, and expect a long and adventure-filled Part III post-holidays. Okay, enjoy!

--

**The Heart of the Matter: Part II**

When Arthur finally came round, Merlin had almost dozed off himself.

Merlin couldn't remember how long he'd been sitting there watching the dozing prince-- it felt like it could have been twenty minutes, or several hours... or a year. Or an eternity. Time just seemed to have disappeared-- a concept forgotten to the steady rhythm that was the rising and falling of Arthur's chest.

"Hrrrrmmm..." Arthur stirred, presumably roused by something he'd seen in a dream. He blinked hard at the low light in the room. When his eyes brought the room into focus, Arthur was a little confused.

"Merlin?" his voice rumbled, husky with grogginess.

"Yes."

"Should you be...?" he screwed up his brow, trying to remember what he'd just been about to ask. He was so exhausted... "Have you lit candles?"

Merlin sat up straight. Yes, actually, he had-- when it had started to get very dark, Merlin had mindlessly set light to a few wicks with a wave of his hand. It had seemed odd to be sitting there in the dark, was all. At first he was frightened that Arthur knew, but then he remembered that it was entirely possible to light candles without magic. Arthur was asking a completely innocent question.

"Er, yes."

"Well, douse them. I'm going to bed."

"Of course." Merlin jumped up and offered a hand to Arthur.

"What's that for?" Arthur frowned sourly. Or maybe his face was just resting in that position from drowsiness.

"Er..." Merlin hesitated, his outstretched hand twitching a little. "To help you up..."

"Oh." Arthur blinked. "Right..." He grasped Merlin's hand and pulled himself up--

_But what about the candles?_

"Don't worry, I'll get to them. Let's just get you into bed first," Merlin said, trying to steady the wobbling Arthur.

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I--"

_It's so cold in here. What does he mean? Get to what?_

Suddenly, a lurch of understanding hit Merlin. The spell. The spell was working at last. But this was not the time-- Arthur was almost completely indisposed in his current state-- it still seemed like taking advantage. Besides, he probably wouldn't have any coherent thoughts to share anyway.

"D'you... do you think you can make it by yourself?"

"Of course-- I'm perfectly capable." But as soon as he said so, Arthur took an ill-considered step and nearly fell over. Merlin reached out to stabilise him again.

_Idiot... twist your ankle again, why don't you..._

Again? Had Arthur ever done anything so clumsy before, Merlin wondered? Then again, if this was what he was always like when he was half-asleep, maybe it wasn't that surprising.

Merlin pulled Arthur's arm across his shoulders, and assisted him as one might a limping soldier wounded in battle.

_Ask him about the--_

Arthur plopped limply onto the bed, his arm falling away from Merlin and breaking contact.

Merlin's heart jumped. Ask him about the what? Would it be too conspicuous to touch him again now in order to catch the end of that thought?

...No, he'd hesitated too long. It would be gone from Arthur's mind already, for sure. Best to just put out the candles and leave him be...

"Merlin," Arthur said through a yawn.

"Er, yes?" Well, maybe he'd find out after all.

"Is there... something that's been bothering you? Something you want to talk to someone about?"

HIs voice was still groggy, but he seemed much more lucid all of a sudden. Merlin could tell that whatever Arthur was trying to ask was very important to him.

"No, not really."

"Don't lie to me Merlin."

So important to him, it seemed, that he was not going to let it go easily. Fine, then...

"Well... there is something. But this isn't really a good time to talk about it," Merlin hedged.

"Tomorrow, then," Arthur said, pulling the blankets over him. "Over breakfast."

""Right." He would have to spend all night trying to come up with some story...

"You can come to me with these things, Merlin. I'll listen."

"Right," Merlin repeated, not knowing what else too say-- and was surprised at the sound of his voice having risen several octaves. Luckily, though, it was quite possible that Arthur had not even heard his response-- he appeared now once again to be dozing peacefully.

--

Three miscreants rode through the night, carrying stolen cargo on stolen horses.

"What if someone recognises this thing and knows where we've got it from?" one of them piped up.

"Nonsense," growled the one leading the pack. "It hasn't been seen for decades-- no one remembers where it's last been seen." he gave a zealous jerk to his horse's reins to change her direction. "Besides, it'll be well out of our hands before it gets to anyone who'd be inclined to ask questions."

"But what if," the inquisitive one wanted to know now, "someone discovers the girl's grave has been dug up, and works out what's happened?"

"Not to worry," the leader said. "She was an outcast in life, and she's forgotten entirely in death. No one cares to visit the grave of a nobody like that."

--

Gaius awoke in wounded indignation. Before he could place what he was so upset about, however, he was distracted by the sound of the door creaking shut.

"Hello, Gaius," Merlin said. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No, no, not to worry. It's just these dreams again--" Ah, but that was beside the point. "You're in late," Gaius observed.

Merlin blinked. "Er... yes, I guess I am."

Gaius waited.

"Oh! Because... because Arthur was having trouble sleeping."

"I wonder if this is becoming something of an epidemic," Gaius mused with a sigh.

"Oh, no, I don't think it was the same thing. Actually, it's not so much that Arthur was having _trouble_ sleeping, to be more accurate-- he was sleeping a bit _too_ well. He dozed off in a chair and I had to wait for him to wake up again so I could get him into bed." As soon as the words were out of Merlin's mouth, he wished he could return them. His ears burned. Surely there could have been a wiser choice of phrasing there. Luckily, Gaius seemed not to notice.

"Indeed?" Gaius nodded. "I am relieved to hear it's not a case of my ailment spreading."

Merlin pulled up a chair across from Gaius and gave the physician his full attention as he sat. "They've been going on for a while, these nightmares," he observed. "Can't you take something for them? The draft you make for Morgana."

"I have," Gaius said. "To no effect, I regret to say." And no sooner could he say so than he fell forward, tumbling face-first to the floor.

"Gaius!" Merlin was at his side in an instant. He pulled the physician into a sitting position and shook his shoulders gently. "Gaius, can you hear me?"

"Vivianna," he breathed.

"No, Gaius, it's Merlin," he urged. "Can you open your eyes?"

"No," Gaius said, which seemed somewhat contradictory because his eyes fluttered open all the same. "The grave... I must go at once."

He tried to get to his feet, which Merlin wouldn't have for an instant.

"Don't. Stay put-- is there anything I can do?"

"No," Gaius said again. "There is only one thing that can be done."

"And what's that? Anything."

"I have to go. I have to go her grave--" Again, Gaius tried to stand, and again, Merlin restrained him.

"Grave? What grave? Where is it?"

"Far. If I don't go now, it'll be too late."

"Gaius, you're not going anywhere." Merlin looked him directly in the eyes. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"It's nothing."

"It's something." Merlin would not relent. "Do you know what happens when people try to keep things from me?"

Gaius sighed heavily. "They find out anyway."

"Exactly."

"Very well." Gaius took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Years ago, a woman named Vivianna was buried in the north woods," he said, and grabbed a nearby book that was already open to a faded map. "Here." He pointed. "I was meant to visit every year, but I've been getting old. Weak. And besides, I have duties here which I cannot always skip out on."

"Right," Merlin said, prompting him to continue.

"I believe perhaps I am being punished," he said.

"For not visiting the grave?"

"Yes. She had magic, Vivianna. It would have been entirely within his abilities-- and personality-- to cast a spell tying me to the obligation she set out for me. I've tried to find a way to break the enchantment's hold on me, but..."

Merlin was alarmed to see tears rising in Gaius's eyes. "No good?" he guessed.

Gaius shook his head and averted his eyes, staring off into space. "It was her dying wish, Merlin." And then his face changed, as if he'd just remembered something. "Something has been taken." His voice sounded with the epiphany. "From her grave-- something stolen. A ring." He snapped his fingers. "Of _course_-- that's why... the dreams... yes. If I can return what the thieves took from her, I feel sure the enchantment will be lifted."

"I'll do it."

"No, you won't," Gaius said. "It's far too dangerous."

Merlin pressed his lips together tightly. "What will happen if the ring isn't returned?"

"I don't know," said Gaius wearily.

Merlin made a split second decision. He didn't like lying, he really didn't. It just ended up happening all too often.

"I'll look through the books for some other way to break the enchantment."

Gaius surveyed Merlin, trying to read something in his face. "Good. Thank you."

Merlin smiled and helped Gaius up.

"Don't stay up too late," the physician warned.

"Right."

"And Merlin."

"Yes?"

"...Don't do anything stupid."

Merlin smiled. "I won't. I promise."

--

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Merlin's anxiety was almost tangible.

"Of course," Arthur said, holding up his arms so Merlin could assist him with his chain mail. "I care about Gaius as much as anyone does."

Merlin made sure all the metal links fell neatly and that none were damaged, which of course required him to run his fingers over Arthur's back, shoulders, and arms.

_I can't let you get hurt,_ Merlin heard in his mind. _You mean too much to me. You should know that by now._ He smiled, and chuckled silently to himself. As usual, Arthur was haphazardly kind.

"And your father?"

"My father would want to see the hold of magic on one of his subjects dealt with directly."

"But he won't," Merlin said, "you know, see. Because you're not going to tell him this ever happened."

Arthur sighed. "To him, it's another hunting trip. I can't risk any delays that might result from my reporting to him." He turned to Merlin and placed his hands on his servant's shoulders.

And in doing so, he unknowingly let Merlin hear something. Something that startled and confused Merlin.

"W-w-we should go," Merlin stammered. "The sooner the better-- we don't know how far the thieves have gone."

"Yes," said Arthur, arms falling to his sides again. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."


End file.
